


Forever

by wavesketcher



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Birth, F/M, Premature Birth, preemie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 20:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19258495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wavesketcher/pseuds/wavesketcher
Summary: *ONE SHOT* Damon's wife, Bonnie, goes into labour three weeks early. "The tiny thing tumbled into latex gloves. Damon inhaled as, with a whimper, Bonnie's head hit the pillow. They were taking him away. No, no, no, no. Their little boy, curled within two hands, twitching and shuddering."





	Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from animeeyes21 on tumblr: Bamon as parents of a preemie.  
> I really hope I did this wonderful idea justice.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Not then: she, sprawled on the couch, him, absentmindedly massaging her socked feet, the Superbowl enlivening the TV screen. Damon felt his wife shift, groan, fold over; he caught the panic in her eyes. _Too early._ _Too early._

“Damon.”

“What’s happening?”

“ _Damon_.”

Bonnie’s fingers pulsed around his. _Too early. Too early._

“Is it happening?” Caroline began to panic, leaping from the couch she and Stefan were slumped on. “Oh my God, Bonnie.”

His wife clutched at the mound, their tiny future, fighting for air, _now_ , three weeks early. _Persistent little thing._

“We need to get to the hospital. Damon. The hospital.”

“Right, right, of course.” He released her hand, helped her up, curled her arm around his waist, pulled her weight against him.

Stefan moved fast, opening doors and scrabbling for shoes. “Does she have a bag?”

“A bag?”

“Like a hospital bag.”

The groans Bonnie was releasing terrified him. “Bon, baby, do you have a bag?”

“Of course, I don’t have a bag! I’m – fuck, ow, ow, ow, - three weeks, oomph, early!”

Caroline swallowed. “I’ll get the essentials. Meet you guys in the car.”

Damon eased her onto the back seat. The sheen of sweat gathering on her chest made his heart jump. _Too early. Too early._

“Don’t look at me like that,” Bonnie snapped.

“Like what?”

“Like I’m going to die or something,” she managed a sluggish eyeroll, “It’s just birth, Damon. We’ve been through a lot worse.”

He kissed her forehead, sliding his hands back into hers, clammy. “You can’t magic yourself out of this one, Bon-bon.”

Her smile slipped into something drowsy, dream-like. “Can’t I?”

“I’m here!”

Caroline began to babble about hospital supplies, listing off instructions to Damon like _stay with her, make sure she has some water, I couldn’t find her slippers, only crocs, don’t kill me Bonnie_ (to which his wife mumbled ‘oh, I will’).

Stefan peered round the driver’s seat. “All ready?”

“Have you seen her!? Yes!”

And Damon felt suddenly very helpless. He’s her husband, he’s Damon _Salvatore_ for fucks sake, notorious former vampire, bad-ass, _kick_ -ass lover to Bonnie Bennett and yet, without his brother and sister-in-law, he would have come undone. He ran his thumb along the back of his wife’s hand as if to say, _I’m here now._

The drive to the hospital was short and punctuated by Bonnie’s contractions. Caroline filled the silences in between, talking the car through stages of labour, what the men are supposed to do, how to assist. Stefan glanced at Damon in the overhead mirror – his eyes read, _get ready brother, your world is about to change._

“There’s a queue. Why is there a queue!?” They found a wheelchair and bundled her onto it, her face now red, her hand trembling. Damon raised his voice, “Can’t they see she’s in fucking _labour_!?”

A nurse touched his arm, asked him to control his language. “When did the contractions start?”

Caroline answered for him. “About forty-five minutes ago. She’s early. The due date isn’t for another three weeks.”

The movements blurred: the nurse, pushing forward, Bonnie’s chair carving a path through the unusually busy hospital corridor, forms, doctors, _too soon, too soon,_ a door. “Are you the father?”

It was Bonnie’s hand, clenched around his - that was the only thing concrete.

She looked so small in that bed, her clothes stripped off, shrunk in something blue and paper-like. Stefan touched his shoulder. “I’m going to get us some coffee.”

Bonnie smiled at him through the mid-wives, reassuring him like the strong woman she was: his _magical wonder-Bennett._ He’d tell her that, when they were holding their baby. _Our baby._

His hand was squeezed. “It’s okay.”

“Hey, I’m meant to be the one consoling you.”

“You look terrified.”

The midwife called for another push; the cry of pain made him wince. “Bonnie?” She let out a carnal sound, more animalistic than human.  “Bonnie?”

She spoke through gritted teeth, “Shut up, I’m trying to bring our child into the world.”

By the second hour, Damon was unravelling. Bonnie’s eyes were lulling; the midwives had gathered in clusters, whispering in concern. _Too early._ There were talks of injections: corti-something to help the baby’s lungs. _Lungs._ Tiny lungs wanting to awake.

He was almost here now - their miracle child. Caroline had gone to the toilet but Damon was stiff, his hand still fiercely in his wife’s. She eyed him from the pillow, green eyes swollen with emotion, pain and _fear_. There was fear there.

“Alright Bonnie, we are so close now. Just one more push, sweetheart.”

The tiny thing tumbled into latex gloves. Damon inhaled as Bonnie’s head hit the pillow with a whimper. They were taking him away. _No, no, no, no._ Their little boy, curled within two hands, twitching and shuddering and _too soon._

“Where are you taking him?” His voice came out too quiet. He asked again, louder. “Where are you taking him?”

Bonnie murmured against the bed, her hand now limp in his, her hair damp against her forehead. Blood pooled over the sheets like a tiny murder scene and their baby… Damon searched for his purple son. His eyes darted from doctor to doctor, he checked their hands. _Nothing._

The midwife spoke carefully. “We’ve taken him to the NICU.”

“What the hell is that!?”

“The Neonatal Intensive Care Unit,” she paused, “Mr Salvatore, I know you’re concerned but please, try and stay calm. For your wife’s sake at least.”

He glanced at the door: Caroline and Stefan were talking to a doctor, the blonde looked angry. They weren’t letting them re-enter.

Bonnie’s lips were parted, her skin drained. “Damon?”

“I’m here, I’m here. I’m here, baby.”

“He’s too small, isn’t he?”

Her words broke, and he looked at the midwife in desperation. She touched Bonnie’s arm, soothing her, hushing her, speaking no words about their boy, just calls for rest. It angered him.

“Why aren’t you telling us more? You can’t just take him away like that. I don’t care if it’s the neo- whatever the hell it was, he’s my son,” he felt his own words build, his throat narrow, “I want to see my son.”

And he was ushered outside, the door closed shut behind him. Damon trembled, his eyes heavy in the artificial light, feverish with questions. The doctor that greeted him, shook his hand.

“Dr Moses.”

“What’s happening to our baby?”

The doctor nodded, “I understand your stress, Mr Salvatore. As I just explained to your brother, your baby is in the best care.” She took a breath, “As you know, Mrs Salvatore gave birth early which means your baby is undeveloped. He’s been taken to an incubator to keep him warm.”

“For how long?”

“We’re not sure,” the doctor replied honestly, “We need to regulate his body temperature, and assess any problems with the lungs.”

Damon tensed. “What problems with the lungs? Is he going to be okay?”

“Your baby suffered from something called Infant Apnea,” she answered before he could ask, “That’s when the baby stops breathing for a short period of time, causing the skin to turn a pale blue. We have a pulmonologist in the NICU now.” The doctor bit her lip. “Mr Salvatore? There’s no need to panic just yet. As I said, your baby is in the best care.”

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

Ever since the turn all those centuries ago, Damon’s habitual reaction has been Anger. His hands curl, his eyes harden – the veins begin their hungry crawl. And then his fangs, pushing from gums in an impetuous need to damage, tear apart. He thought of his baby, blue and fighting for breath and, although human, the phantom fangs lurched forward. He wanted to pin the doctor against the wall, growl until she promised to give her life for their child, _bleed_ for him.

“Damon.” Stefan’s voice was as firm as the hand on his arm. _Breathe._ “Thank you, Doctor. Please, keep us informed of any developments.”

“Of course.”

His brother led him to the plastic bench where Caroline was gnawing on the skin around her nails.

“Drink.” Stefan thrust a coffee under Damon’s nose. “You need it.”

Damon poured the liquid down his throat and sputtered. “Bourbon!?”

“Your baby’s on life support. No judgement.”

He downed the rest of the styrofoam cup in one swoop. “Bon’s basically passed out. She didn’t even get to touch him.”

The statement ballooned into a heavy silence. Caroline placed a hand on his knee.

Twenty minutes later, the midwife opened the door and he was allowed back in. Caroline and Stefan shuffled behind him; their eyes rounded in concern. Bonnie’s smile was watery.

“Hey.”

Caroline rushed to her side. “Oh, _Bonnie_.”

They circled around her, trying to give reassuring smiles but they sat like lies atop their faces and Damon wanted to collapse.

Bonnie gripped his hand, and her words fell in a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“How small was he?” He caught a tear on his thumb.

Damon lowered to kiss her forehead. “He’s got Bennett blood. He’s strong.”

“Tiny but powerful?”

“Tiny but powerful.”

He kissed at her tears, alarmed at his own. Bonnie studied him. “I hate seeing you cry.”

“I hate _this_.”

Time crawled in that hospital room. Caroline and Stefan took turns on the arm chair, sometimes disappearing to gather more snacks from the vending machine, coffee breaks, and Doctor chasing. Somewhere in those corridors, was their baby boy. The thought was paralysing.

“If he makes it-”

“He’s going to make it.”

Bonnie gave a sad smile. “If he makes it, let’s call him that.”

“What?”

“Small but powerful. Type it in on google. I want a name that means that.”

Damon let out a breath. He unearthed his phone from his pocket and typed the words. The list was long: a mixture of Gaelic and Disney Prince sounding.

Bonnie lifted her eyes. “Well?”

“There’s one that means small, but mighty. I like that.”

“Small, but mighty,” a smile poked at her mouth, “Our little warrior.” She traced a vein on his hand. “What is it?”

“Mr Salvatore.”

Dr Moses didn’t knock before entering and Bonnie’s nail scratched against his palm. If he were still a vampire, the noise of her heart would have deafened him. Damon stood up.

“Is he okay?”

“We’ve had to hook him up through IV, but he’s stable.” She played with the folds of her doctor’s coat, “Would you like to meet him?”

“Yes. Yes, definitely.”

Bonnie latched on to his finger, pulling softly. Her eyes were glossed with tears. “Wait, what’s his name?”

And Damon kissed her. Once, twice, a third time. She laughed softly, “Tell me, idiot.”

He grinned like a madman, giddy with the existence of him, their baby, _small but mighty_. “Renny,” he faltered suddenly, “Do you like it?”

Bonnie’s mouth folded around the name, trying it out for size, her tongue chasing the syllables. She laughed again. “Renny. That’s perfect.”

* * *

He was told to wash his hands. Put this gown on. Wear this mask. Everything about him was stripped down, pushed into something sterile, hospitalised. He squinted in the light of the room.

The incubators looked like tiny cages, lined up in formation – a curled, purple life-form sleeping or wriggling in each. It frightened him, not knowing which was his.

“He’s got an infusion pump, a tube inserted into the belly button, feeding him something we call TPN.”

Damon winced at another bloody acronym. _These doctors talk in a different language._

“This gives him the nutrients he needs to feed and grow.” The nurse smiled tentatively, “You can touch him, he responds well to physical touch.”

“How?”

She smiled again, “Through the holes. It might be nice to hold his hand.” She turned away, busying herself with another tiny child too fragile for the world.

Renny had his eyes squeezed shut, shrivelled above a button nose and upturned mouth. Damon traced his shape over the plastic. His swollen stomach twitched; the blue of his skin looked frozen.

“Hi, little man.”

The baby coughed.

“I’m your daddy… I’m sorry you’re in a plastic house but it seems you couldn’t wait to meet me and your mummy, huh?” He brought his face closer, examined the bunched fist, wondered how to touch him, terrified of doing it wrong, hurting his puckered skin, sending his lungs into disarray with a scream. “You’re going to _love_ her. Not more than I do, that would be impossible, but just as much. She’s brilliant, brave and strong. Like you.” He dared to poke at the opening; his gloved finger scraped against a hand. “I don’t know if I’m going to be a very good father, Renny, but I’ll promise you this: I’m never going to stop loving you. Ever.” He brushed against his baby’s skin, whispering it awake. “And I’m always going to be here. You got that, right? Even when you’re angry at me and you try to push me away, you’re my _son._ You’re stuck with me, Ren-ren.”

Renny shivered; his hand unfurled for a moment, fleetingly, before re-curling – this time, with Damon’s finger in the centre.

* * *

 

They visited the NCIU every day, at multiple hours. When Bonnie had enough strength to see him, she cried. Gloved hands splayed over his plastic home, she told him how much she loved him, how much she wanted to hold him. Renny coughed and caught her in his open eye. Bonnie buried herself in Damon’s chest; he stroked her hair and promised his baby all the love in the world.

Caroline thought he was beautiful. By the third day, he had darkened, a milky chocolate pooling over the violet. The blonde tickled his palms through the holes and giggled at his wriggling. Stefan bought some stickers from their children’s craft box and together they, made a picture on the plastic cover, above his feet.

“It’s like a blanket,” said Bonnie.

Dr. Moses said he could come in the next week and his wife recruited the other Salvatore’s on nursery duty, handing Caroline the readily accepted role of interior designer.

“Your Auntie Caroline’s crazy, little man,” Damon whispered, his finger trapped by all of his son’s. “Actually, I’m afraid this whole family is crazy,” he sighed, “Make that the whole town.” Renny sighed too, content. “It’s home though… You’ll get to meet it properly soon, don’t worry.  It doesn’t look very fun in that plastic box.”

When the day came, he felt sick. The anticipation of driving to the hospital, knowing that he would be holding him, fully, completely, would wake up to him, say goodnight to him, from now until the day his son moved away.

Bonnie held him first – he fit in her arms like a jigsaw piece, still so _very_ small. Damon inhaled his scent, folding around his wife, unable to resist the moment. It was the happiest he’d ever been. Those years of chasing, drinking, killing, falling, in love, out of it, to get to here.

Renny accepted his finger silently. It was their agreement – daddy’s hand, his to hold. _Forever._

* * *

_“So Renny almost **died**!?”_

_He nods. “Yup.”_

_“ **Cool**.”_

_“Hey!” The boy frowns at his sister. “That’s mean.”_

_“But you **didn’t** , that’s the main thing.”_

_Renny ignores her. “Did you really cry, dad?”_

_“Maybe.”_

_Both children screw up their faces. “I didn’t even know you **could** cry.”_

_“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Mia.”_

_“Really? Like what?”_

_“Well, a long, **long** time ago, your Uncle Stefan and I-”_

_“ **Damon**.” _

_With a chuckle at his wife’s warning, he winks at his children. “Ask me in a few years.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh that was emotional to write! Really hoping I handled this subject with enough care… I did do some research into premature births for context etc.  
> Please do review!  
> P.S. If you guys have any prompt requests, my ask box on tumblr is always open = perpetualimaginings


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